Breaking Tradition
by Lt. Basil
Summary: Alternate outcome of "Breaking the Pattern", Scorpius' POV. It is an unspoken rule that all Malfoys are to be placed in Slytherin House. Not to do so would seem a crime against nature. Scorpius had never been one for breaking rules. Until now, that is.


**A/N: Soooo… this is kinda an alternate outcome to my previous HP oneshot,** _ **Breaking the Pattern.**_ **I wasn't originally planning on doing this, but there's just one other House that I like putting Scorpius in, and I just couldn't resist writing an alternate where he's put in** _ **it.**_ **And no one complain about my choice, please. This is my favorite House, and the House that I am sorted into 80 percent of the time when I take Housing quizzes. So no dissing this House. It's the best, and it's awesome.**

 **Anyway, I hope you enjoy! And I would love it if you would leave a review if you have time.**

"Malfoy, Scorpius!"

My legs feel like gelatin the moment that my name is called. Shaking violently, I climb to my feet and start forward. Hundreds of eyes are boring into me, making me feel sick to the stomach. Ducking my head, I creep down the aisle, afraid that I'll puke if I so much as glance at anybody else. Their judging eyes pin me down, turning my mouth into a barren desert and setting off a meat grinder in my stomach. It doesn't take a genius to see that these people hate me.

Every step I take is slow and laborious. My breath is rapid, my heartrate erratic, and my palms have turned into marshlands. Ahead, the stool containing the Sorting Hat seems kilometers away. I'm so scared that I think I'm going to faint dead away. All of my instincts are telling me to turn and run, but I keep moving forward for some unfathomable reason.

I hear the whispers before I'm even halfway to the chair.

"Did you hear…?"

"…death eaters…"

"…traitors, the lot of them…"

"…bloody _Malfoys_ …"

"…father was a murderer…"

I swallow hard and shove my hands into the folds of my robes, keeping my gaze fixed firmly on my feet. Hundreds of judging eyes dig into me, cruelly assessing every detail, every flaw. It's not a behavior that I haven't seen before. They're sizing me up, trying to figure what it'll take to beat me in a fight. And I know that they can see that the odds are stacked against me, with my scrawny form and the self-conscious aversion of my eyes.

Risking an upward glance, my eyes drift over to the Gryffindor table. The eldest Potter boy, James, is seating near the front. He narrows his eyes as he catches my gaze, showing an outward hostility not uncommon among Gryffindors, especially towards Slytherins. His brown eyes flash dangerously, his eyes hard and unforgiving as he glares hard at me.

I swallow and look away.

After what seems like _years,_ I arrive at the chair. Slowly, stiffly, with a sinking feeling in my gut, I take a seat. A moment later, the Sorting Hat is placed on my head, drooping down over my eyes and effectively shutting out the rest of the world. The moment I've been dreading all summer has finally arrived.

I'm scared. My cousin, Gemini Black, had started taunting me back in June about which House I might end up in. _Wimpy, like a Hufflepuff. As nerdy as a Ravenclaw. So stupidly reckless, I could be a Gryffindor._ "You're not good enough to make Slytherin," he'd cackled. "What'll your dad say when his kid is stuck in one of those loser Houses?"

Actually, I have nothing against the other Houses. My entire family practically _worships_ Slytherin House, but frankly, I don't see what the big deal is. The Houses were all placed so that the students can be put in an environment that best suits them, right? Hogwarts school was founded to help young wizards like me succeed in life – each House is merely a tool to accomplish that goal. So why should I hate Ravenclaw, Hufflepuff, and Gryffindor when I look at things from _that_ point of view? The way I see it, each House has its own strengths and weaknesses. None of them are superior.

If it wasn't for my fear of my father's opinion, I wouldn't care which House I was sorted into. As it is, I'm terrified.

I sit completely still, waiting for the hat to call out that fateful house and send me plummeting further down my path of exile. I squeeze my eyes shut tight, certain that at any moment he'll call out 'Slytherin' and forever destroy my chances of escaping my father's legacy.

Five seconds pass. Then ten. He still hasn't called anything. I open my eyes just a crack, staring at the inside of the hat numbly.

 _Did I break him?_ I wonder in alarm.

The sound of chuckling makes me jump.

 _No, my boy, you didn't 'break' me. I'm perfectly fine. You are a peculiar one, though._

My pulse quickens. _'Peculiar'?_ I ask meekly. _What do you mean?_

 _When I saw you from across the room I was certain that I'd be able to sort you in a heartbeat,_ the hat explained. _You look so much like your father, and his father before him._

I wince and let my head droop, just a little bit. If even the sorting hat thinks that I'm like them, then there's no hope of me ever getting away from it.

 _Your mind, however, tells a different story._ I freeze. _You do have ambition,_ the hat continues, _but not the level of a Slytherin._ _It's all right here, buried in your head. Yes… a brave soul, to be sure, but you're not quite a lion… loyal and selfless, but not quite worthy of a Hufflepuff… you have ambition, that is true, but your brand of intelligence is not the same as a Slytherin's. You are quite an unusual one. It'd better be R-_

Panic fills me as he starts to shout. _No, stop!_

The hat stops. If I could see its face, I know that it would be filled with confusion. _Why?_

I swallow. _I can't be a Ravenclaw,_ I say helplessly. _I'm not… I can't…_

 _You need a little convincing, do you?_ The hat questions. _Very well, then. Let me ask you a riddle. You can run, but cannot walk. You have a mouth but cannot talk. You have a head, but never weep. You have a bed, but never sleep. What are you?_

I have no idea what this had to do with anything, but I close my eyes and start wracking my brain for an answer. Let's see… a machine can run, and it might have a mouth depending on what it is, but who's ever heard of a 'machine head'? It isn't that. Hmm… maybe a trail? A trail runs along through whatever area it goes through, and a trailhead is the start of a trail… but is there such a thing as a trailbed? I doubt it, and anyway, I've never heard of the mouth of a trail, so that's out. Hmm… it runs, but cannot walk…

And then it hits me.

 _A river,_ I tell the hat. _A river runs along a riverbed. Its source is sometimes called a 'head' and the area where it drains into a larger body of water is known as a 'mouth'. The answer is river._

 _Very good,_ the hat replies. _You have a sharp mind, young one. Your father never could have figured that out._ I beam. _The only students that have ever answered that question correctly were like you,_ he continues. _Your family may all be serpents, my boy, but that fate is not for you._

I swallow. Hard. _How can you be so sure?_ I ask it. _Surely not only Ravenclaws can answer that question… and my dad… he wants me to be in Slytherin… he'll be furious if I'm sent somewhere else._

 _If your father truly loves you, he will get over it,_ the hat says simply. _If he does not, it is of no fault of yours. He cannot change who you are, Scorpius. And you, young one, you are an eagle. I have been sorting children since the dawn of Hogwarts, and I have yet to get one wrong._

I don't know what to say, or to think, but it's now plain that I cannot change the Sorting Hat's mind. My head droops a little, but I steel my resolve and nod slowly. _Alright._

 _Alright?_

 _Alright._

 _Very well, then. Better be_ "RAVENCLAW!"

The hall is silent. You could hear a pin drop from a mile away, that's how deep the quiet is. Professor Longbottom is in so much shock that I have to remove the Sorting Hat myself and shove it into his hands before getting up and walking towards the Ravenclaw table. A hundred eyes are fixed on me. I try not to meet their gazes as I move, slowly, deliberately, toward my new housemates.

The clapping starts somewhere on my far left. I turn to see. At the Gryffindor table, two students have risen to their feet and are clapping enthusiastically. I start to see that they are none other than James Sirius Potter and his partner-in-crime, Fred Weasley. Soon the rest of the Gryffindors have followed their lead and are standing, cheering on the first Malfoy in well over a century to be sorted somewhere besides Slytherin.

My new House is the second to join in. Looking back towards them, I can see Dominique Weasley, one of the Ravenclaw prefects, on her feet, clapping loudly. Then, across from her, I see another girl – a second or third year – with pale blonde hair and a dreamy expression on her face, stand and clap as well. A smile slowly makes its way on to my face as my housemates cheer for me, and, though not looking entirely thrilled with me being there, welcome me as I finally reach the table and take a seat.

Over at the Slytherin table, I catch Gemini scowling at me, his dark hair half-concealing his face as he gives me one of the fiercest deathglares that I have ever seen. I know instantly that he's going to write to my granddad the minute that the Sorting is over, but surprisingly I find myself not too upset over that. If he wants to tell my family that I didn't carry on their tradition, let him.

When I first went up there, I believed that I would be disappointed if I didn't make it into Slytherin, but I'm surprised to realize that I'm not. I don't feel the slightest bit upset. I feel… free.

And I know why. See, while a snake is trapped on the ground, forced to crawl on their bellies for all of their existence, an eagle has wings. It can fly anywhere it pleases; soar over any obstacle that gets in its way.

Up until now, my family has crawled along blindly, inching forward with no clear sight of where they need to go, or what they need to do.

I will be the first Malfoy in years… possibly even the first Malfoy _ever_ … to fly.

 **Riddle comes from Star Wars: The Clone Wars, S4E5, _Mercy Mission._**

 **I'll take a vote. If you want me to write more fics or oneshots for this, would you rather me write more with Scorpius in Ravenclaw? I've already got plenty of plans for his Slytherin story, but if enough people are interested, I will write something for Ravenclaw Scorpius as well. Tell me your thoughts! Feedback is the bread and butter of my inspiration!**

 **P.S. I'm willing to listen to specific story requests, but only if they're oneshots. I can't write multi-chaps on a whim.**


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